


Build It And Love Will Come

by mothwhisperer



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Injury, Major Character Injury, Robot AU, Robots, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:57:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwhisperer/pseuds/mothwhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where robots are as ubiquitous as cell phones, tensions between man and machine run high. Whilst some wish to see the robots assimilated into human society, many more fear their growing numbers and desire harsh restraint on their freedom. With robots becoming increasingly advanced, it's hard to tell them apart from their creators, especially when 'creators' is a term that isn't selectively for humans anymore: robots build robots now. One 'bot in particular strives to create the ultimate 'human' machine, one that could fit so seamlessly into society it would be immune to all prejudice, all fear, and all hatred. A robot that nobody at all could distinguish from a human being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fanfic and I'm really nervous! I've decided publishing will perhaps give me more motivation to actually finish it (I don't have a very good track record there :/) and I've got a lot of plans for this fic. I know this is only a prologue for the moment, but I have plans. Angsty, feely plans. This fic is loosely based on a long conversation I had with my ex gf whilst walking between schools for lessons. When I say conversation, it was mostly me talking at her and asking the occasional question.

     Ryan sheltered in the alcove near the door of an inconspicuous grey rectangle-of-a-building and peered out into the dark night and the sheets of rain. It was abysmal weather, but it ensured no potential witnesses would be loitering about. Ryan moved his feet worriedly, suddenly doubtful that the awaited would even turn up. At last someone shuffled into sight and approached him.

     “You came” Ryan breathed with relief.

     “Yes. Surprised myself on that account to be honest” she replied, laughing nervously.

     “I can’t thank you enough”

     “Yes, yes, just _don’t_ expect me to come in with you.” The woman fumbled momentarily, her gloved hands clumsily aligning a grey card with a slit to the right of the door. She swiped the card. The door opened with a quiet hiss, metal sliding away to reveal yet more darkness. The lights flickered on and illuminated a plain reception area, with blue plastic chairs and a long wooden desk.

     “You know where they are?” Her face contorted with a combination of worry and nervousness, thick eyebrows creasing together.

     “Yeah”

     “The door is active now so you can use your own pass to exit, but you’ll need this-” she pushed her grey card towards him “to lock it down afterwards”

     “Won’t you need it?” Ryan took the card hesitantly.

     “Bring it to me before Monday and don’t let anything happen to it.”

     “I won’t, I promise”

     “You’d better promise. I’m risking my job for this, you know. If anyone finds out I could be _imprisoned_ , especially with the current stigma against…” she motioned to the room beyond the door, her shaking hands illuminated by the harsh artificial light.

     “I know. You should go. If I get caught, I’ll say I stole the card.”

     “I’d prefer it if you didn’t get caught. They shouldn’t notice one core go missing; the government hardly care for keeping track of them anymore. Actively supporting our organisation doesn’t really gain them any supporters” she smiled apologetically. “Alright then. Goodbye Ryan. And good luck” She nodded, and Ryan returned the gesture, then she turned and shuffled back the way she had come. He didn’t watch her go, however, and instead stepped through the doorframe, the door sighing closed behind him, and hurried across the room to another behind the desk. Through there was a corridor, and Ryan walked quietly along it, despite knowing the building was empty. He entered the final door on the left and shut it behind him, flicking a switch on the wall for the lights.

     The room was small and cupboard-like, the far wall consisting entirely of small, square drawers. He opened the first and pulled out a little booklet, flicking it open and scanning the contents. A moment of thought and a brief head-shake preceded him replacing the card and opening the second drawer. Then the third.

     It would take him a while to find the right one.


	2. 14 Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a year since Ryan and Gavin became housemates: They go see a movie, talk about robots, talk about each other. Ryan reads a newspaper article. Gavin asks questions about dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here it is! I know this is only one day after the Prologue so please forgive me if I haven't proof-read this well-enough (I don't really have anyone to read it all for me before I post, haha). It's also midnight so I'm a bit scared I've made a glaring error somewhere and missed it. Don't hold me to this contract of a chapter a day though, please. I've been writing loads tonight so I didn't do as much homework as intended (oops). Sorry, my schoolwork needs to come first! I hope you enjoy this. I'm trying to give some insight into the societal setting of the fic without clogging up the characters and story too much. Please give me any feedback you have, good or bad: I'm open to constructive criticism!

                He heard the front door open, but elected to continue focusing on the circuitry in front of him as footsteps sounded along the hallway and the door to his workshop opened.

                “How was work?” Ryan asked nonchalantly.

                “Utter nobs” came the reply, followed by the sound of the small refrigerator in the corner being opened, a crack, and the hiss of a drink. Ryan turned in his chair to look at his housemate, who was sprawled over the ratty couch pushed against the far wall, sipping from a can. Ryan raised an eyebrow.

                “Any particular reason?”

                “It’s…” Gavin sighed. “I didn’t come over here from England to _sell_ cameras, Ryan. I guess I pictured myself doing something bigger than this.” Ryan frowned.

                “You don’t have to work there, you know. I earn enough-”

                “I’m not going to sit around all day and have you do everything.” There was a sudden finality to his tone. Ryan opened his mouth to counter, then shrugged and turned back to his work.

                “I just want you to be happy”

                “Ew, Ryan, you’re not my girlfriend” the voice behind him jeered, full of feigned disgust. Ryan laughed and set his tools down, then began packing away whatever project he had been working on.

                “You know what I mean. Anyway, today’s a day for celebration” he said, looking round at Gavin and grinning. He got an indignant eye-roll in response, but a smile followed.

                “I have a birthday, you know, we don’t need to celebrate this too.” Ryan’s smile faltered momentarily, and then he shook his head.

                “Gavin, do not dismiss this rare moment of sentimentality from your legal guardian-“

                “I’m a bloody adult, Ryan!” Gavin spluttered, almost spilling his drink. Ryan’s smile widened.

                “An adult who is housed and fed by an older man” he reasoned. Gavin looked offended. “Sorry, sorry. Look, let’s just do something nice to commemorate the anniversary of your arrival on my doorstep, okay?”

                “Bevs?” Gavin suggested eagerly. Ryan sighed.

                “I actually thought we could go see a movie” he insisted. Gavin hesitated, a mixture of emotions crossing his face, one that might have looked like fear. Ryan started to regret opening his mouth.

                “Alright then.” It was a slightly uncertain, careful reply, but it was all that was required. Ryan sighed with relief and grabbed his coat off of the back of his chair.

                “Great. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

                They sat next to each other as the seats slowly filled, the room still dark, quiet music playing. Ryan watched Gavin’s face, trying to measure his expression. His housemate met his gaze momentarily, then looked away again.

                “I reckon that one’s a robot” Gavin whispered, looking at a man a few rows down, shuffling along the row to his seat. An uncomfortable feeling settled around Ryan.

                “I can’t tell” he answered stiffly. Gavin glanced at him, frowning.

                “You’re no fun, you could at least guess, it’s just a game. They’re out there, Ryan. Among us.” he dropped his voice, putting on an unconvincingly threatening tone, “and one day, they’ll strike!” A woman a few seats across shushed him and Gavin grimaced. Ryan couldn’t help but smile at that. “It’s not funny-” the other man warned, but Ryan shushed him this time, and he reluctantly fell silent.

                “It’s starting” Ryan murmured, looking straight ahead and trying not to think. About Gavin’s words. About Gavin. About anything.

 

* * *

 

 

                Later, walking out of the theater, Ryan asked Gavin if he’d ever really known a robot. Gavin shook his head.

                “They’re not as common in England yet I don’t think. I mean they work in the shops and they help out but there’s none of this making them impossible to bloody tell apart from humans to make them fit in nonsense you have going on here. So I never made friends with one or anything like that. Now though? Who knows? They don’t really go around telling people they’re robots, do they? For all I know _you_ could be one!” the younger man exclaimed, turning towards his companion. Ryan’s eyes widened and Gavin laughed. “Even _I_ could be one!”

“Uh-” Ryan stammered. Gavin only laughed harder, eventually receding into giggles.

“Your face! You’re a right minge, you know”

                “Just playing along” Ryan replied, hoping his voice didn’t shake. A moment of silence followed. “But, and just out of curiosity, of course, what if I, hypothetically, was a robot?” he questioned, almost instantly regretting it, and not just for the way he stumbled over ‘hypothetically’. Gavin’s brow furrowed and Ryan could swear he could almost see the cogs working away.

                “Well, I suppose…” he hesitated. “I don’t know-”

                “It’s okay,” Ryan rushed to interject, “nothing to worry about anyway.” He smiled and Gavin smiled back. Another quiet moment passed.

                “What about me?”

                “Huh?”

                “What if I was a robot?” Ryan looked at Gavin carefully. The question seemed sincere, and his mind raced to find a suitable answer, but Gavin continued. “Oh, never mind, I didn’t give you an answer so don’t feel you have to.” Relief flooded over Ryan, but he paused and answered quietly.

                “You’re Gavin, and that’s all that matters. As long as you’re still you, I’ll _put up with you_ no matter what”

                “Hey!” Gavin cried, smiling all the same. They continued their walk home in comfortable silence, shoulders brushing every few steps.

 

* * *

 

 

                The next morning Ryan opened the newspaper to a startling headline. Another attack by a militant gang of anti-robot protesters, and nearby too. Ryan exhaled heavily, and read on. The attackers had bribed one of the robot assimilation workers (Ryan’s mind fell on Carrie, his own assigned assimilation officer, with her purple gloves and heavy eyebrows) for information about the identity of a robot. Then, they had tracked said robot down and ripped the robot apart, limb by limb, piece by piece, and melted the parts down as best they could. Most user-owned robots did not feel pain, but those signed up for assimilation were given the best emulation of it that robot science could provide. Ryan winced at the description.

                The situation was getting worse. When robots were first given the right to vote, the government had immediately catered to them, hoping to gain support in the robot community. Much of the public, however, were against the motions, and negative tensions between man and machine grew. The assimilation scheme was partially to protect the more intelligent, realistic designs (most men did not fear the basic machines owned by humans to perform manual labour and simple work) who were targets of the protests. The scheme also faced a lot of negativity, and after its first few years, the government withdrew nearly all funding. Humans feared robots already. Implanting them into society, hidden from prejudiced eyes, resulted in all kinds of conspiracies about robots taking over, and the fear grew. Now the assimilation offices (inconspicuous buildings, their function unknown to all but those who use them) were grim places. Robots were offered support and limited protection by volunteer workers, whilst the expensive technology used to make the robots practically human was becoming harder to come by.

                Ryan was dragged out of his deep contemplation of current affairs by Gavin’s voice from across the room. He set the newspaper on the table next to him, folding it and placing the aforementioned article face-down.

                “Hm?” He looked towards his housemate.

                “I said ‘do you have dreams?’ I’ve noticed lots of people talk about dreams and I just realised I don’t think I’ve ever had one. Is that weird?” Ryan thought carefully before answering.

                “Everyone dreams, Gavin. Not everyone remembers their dreams, though.”

                “Oh. Have you ever remembered a dream?”

                “Nope.” Ryan smiled, almost apologetically. Gavin nodded.

                “Well, I’ll see you later” the younger man declared, rising from the couch and padding across the living room. “I’ll miss the bus to work if I don’t go soon”

                “I could drive you?” Ryan offered, rising from his chair.

                “Nah, it’s fine, there’s a woman who gets the bus I really need to ask very important question.” Ryan breathed a laugh at that, and saw Gavin out the door. Then he retreated to his workshop and pulled out his phone, dialing Carrie’s number.


	3. 7 Years Previously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan wakes up. There's a first time for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long, guys! Things have been slightly hectic recently. 6+ month relationship broke up, school's ever-stressful, and I've been super distracted by playing Dishonored (a video game I'm now obsessed with). But anyway, I was suddenly struck with inspiration tonight and so have written another chapter. It's not long, but it's something, and it is almost 1AM here in England so I'm tired. No Gavin in this part, sorry, but some lovely, juicy Ryan backstory. This fic will probably jump back and forth a lot along the timeline. Anyway, enjoy, and hopefully the next part won't come with such a long wait, but I won't make any promises because I'll just become that horrible person who lets everyone down.

                “Okay, he’s on.”

                “It doesn’t look on.”

                “ _He_ will take a moment to start up.”

                The voices started off sounding quiet and far away, then slowly grew in volume and sounded closer, right next to him. He had the strange sensation of existing in a single, minute point of space before sensation flooded into him of a body, infinitely huge in comparison. Hands. He clenched one into a fist.

                “Aha! It’s moving.”

                “Oh, be quiet a moment would you? Hello? Can you hear us?”

                Lids he hadn’t known existed lifted and bright, blinding light filled his vision. Then a face, dark skin and darker eyes, but with a friendly warmth to them.

                “Yes” he replied with a mouth he hadn’t known he could use.

                “Excellent, please sit up if you can.” Her voice was welcoming, but stern. He complied.

                “Who-” he began as he sat, another person rising into his view. Taller, male, a white beard and a sharp, grey gaze. The woman cut him off.

                “Are we? I’m Alma. Alma Wright, and this is Gregory Foss.” Blinking and nodding, the robot opened his mouth to ask another question, but Alma immediately cut in. “And who are you? Don’t worry, I was just getting to that. Your name is Ryan.” she beamed at him.

                “Ryan…” he tested it out, and she nodded encouragingly.

                “You’re a robot, and you’ve just been properly activated for the first time. Of course there were some initial tests to make sure you were physically working properly but this is the first time you’ve been turned on with full function of your artificial brain and self-awareness programming.” Ryan could only stare at her as she spoke, entirely bewildered. “Apologies, I’m getting ahead of myself, it’s just so exciting! You see, we’ve only recently started developing such advanced artificial consciousness, and this is my first time activating one of the newest models-” she stopped herself at Ryan’ blank expression.

                “It doesn’t seem as intelligent as you promised, Alma.” observed Foss, a brief, gruff laugh escaping him. “Doesn’t look like it understands a word you’re saying.”

                “Oh give him a chance, Gregory, do you expect a new-born baby to be able to do rocket-science?” Alma snapped. Foss huffed, but didn’t argue.

                “What happens now?” sounded Ryan’s voice again. It seemed so strange to him, that a thought could be in his mind one moment, and on his tongue the next. He shifted slightly, and scooted to the edge of the metal table he had been laying on, dropping his legs over the side. Alma nodded approvingly.

                “Motor functions work a treat. Okay, Ryan, I’m going to ask you to do a few things for me, to test everything’s connected and working properly up there” she tapped her temple. Ryan nodded.

 

                An hour or so later Ryan had found he could walk, run, jump, pick things up, throw things, read, write, and use body language to communicate, all without ever learning how. It was disorientating, but exciting. Ryan wondered at the possibilities of his mind and body, but was also fearful of what else he could do but didn’t realise yet. Now Alma sighed with finality.

                “Okay, everything seems to be in working order. Now you’re probably wondering why, if you can do all this automatically, you didn’t even know your own name when you woke up.” Ryan hadn’t been wondering that at all but he nodded anyway. “Well,” Alma turned and picked something up off the desk behind her. “If we activate robots with their full knowledge bank installed, we’ve found it’s too…” She hesitated. “Overwhelming” she settled on the word uncomfortably, and then held up a small cuboid made of plastic and metal. “But now I think we’re ready to fill in those gaps.”

                It felt like an explosion, but within him. Suddenly a whole world came into focus: people, politics, nature, cities, countries, continents. It seemed to expand inside of him, information travelling over him, through him, like radiation. Alma was talking, he thought, but he could not understand her, his brain entirely occupied.

Gradually, it settled, like silt and sand in water, and everything was clear. Of course his name was Ryan, how hadn’t he realised sooner? He was a robot, build by human hands, and sometimes other machines. He was an intelligent model, a scientist model. He himself would work on robots, designing and developing them. It was his purpose.

                “When do I start?” his voice sounded more confident now, more certain than it had before.

                “Wow, slow down there!” Alma grinned, patting Ryan’s shoulder. “All in good time.”


	4. Back in the Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how to sum up this chapter so here's three quotations:  
> 1\. “Carrie-” She hung up.  
> 2\. When he handed the paper back Gavin read ‘Michael Jones’ in rough scrawl, and a phone number beneath.  
> 3\. Ryan. Ryan again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I'm in a writing mood a lot again, and I've patched this chapter together over the last couple of days. I keep having so many long-term ideas for this fic and having to note them down for later, but I've got to remind myself to build slowly xD I hope you guys enjoy this, and any feedback is super appreciated.

                “Ryan?” Carrie’s voice buzzed through the phone into his ear.

                “Hi, Carrie. You see the news at all yet?” There was a moment of silence.

                “Oh, yeah, terrible I know. How people can be so- so-” she sighed, “-is beyond me.” Ryan sat down at his desk and sifted through a pile of blueprints absentmindedly as he spoke.

                “So you know how they got the information.” Again, silence from Carrie’s end.

                “You’re not trying to imply- Oh my god, Ryan, I would never! What are you- Jesus!” Ryan felt his cheeks redden and bowed his head, despite knowing she couldn’t see him.

                “I’m sorry-” he began, but she spoke over him.

                “I can’t believe this! I’ve done everything I can for you, I’ve risked my position, everything. I’ve turned a blind eye, even helped you in your entirely illegal activities and you think I’m going to turn you over to those anti-robot imbeciles for a bribe!? I can’t believe you right now!” Ryan raised a fist to his mouth and bit it silently, holding back the urge to defend himself. Carrie huffed a few times, and Ryan tried once more to apologise.

                “Carrie-” She hung up. Ryan placed the phone down on the desk and rubbed a hand across his face. Great. Just perfect. She was right, though, of course she was. Carries was the most trustworthy human he knew, it’d been a stupid thing to worry about. He cursed under his breath and stood up. He had to go apologise. His work could wait.

                He grabbed his coat and swung it over his shoulders as he walked towards the front door. He picked up keys off the hook and left the house, hurrying in the direction of the assimilation office.

 

* * *

 

 

                The electronic doors of the shop slid open with a hiss, and Gavin looked up from the disassembled camera he had been cleaning. A young-looking man walked in, eyes passing over the shelves of equipment and landing on Gavin. He ambled forwards, the curls in his reddish-brown hair bouncing slightly.

                “Hey, I’m looking for a camera.” he asked, placing both hands on the desk.

                “Why else would you be here?” Gavin sniggered, and the other man scowled.

                “If I’d known I was gonna get shitty fucking service I would have gone somewhere else.” He leant forwards slightly as he spoke, voice raised. Gavin stepped backwards and raised his hands apologetically, an inadvertent whine escaping him. The stranger looked content with that reaction and slapped a document on the desk between them.

                “You got this model yet? It’s one of the newer ones.” Gavin picked up the paper and looked it over, eyes widening. The print-out detailed an internal camera, the kind installed into robots. Gavin glanced past the paper at the man, looking him up and down. He rolled his eyes in response, looking impatient. “Well, do you have it or not?” the customer demanded.

                “You’re a-” Gavin caught himself. The other man threw his arms up exasperatedly.

                “Yes, I’m a fucking robot, Jesus! What’re you gonna do about it? Kidnap me and hand me over to one of those gangs for a reward? Now answer my question so I can stop talking to you.” Gavin’s mouth set into a line of discontent.

                “We don’t serve machines.” The robot’s face twitched at ‘machine’. Gavin felt slightly scared for his life. “Sorry” he added.

                “Fucking fabulous” the man replied, turning to leave.

                “Wait!” Gavin blurted out, immediately regretting it. “I think, maybe, I could get one ordered in for you.” he said hesitantly, half wishing the man would refuse his offer.

                “’Might’, or can?”

                “I know a guy who works on robots. He might be able to get it cheaper or something…” Why was he doing this? The man shrugged.

                “Worth a shot, how soon can you get it?”

                “Uh, I don’t know. Um…” Gavin fumbled, grabbing a pen from the pot to his right. “Can I get your contact details and I’ll let you know when you can collect it?”

                “Sure.” The robot grabbed the pen, his previous anger seemingly dissipated. When he handed the paper back Gavin read ‘Michael Jones’ in rough scrawl, and a phone number beneath. “Hey,” Michael said, drawing Gavin’s attention back to him, “who should I say served me if I need to come in here and complain about some ass-wipe never getting back to me about my order?”

                “Uh, Gavin.” Michael raised an eyebrow. “Gavin Free.”

                “Great.” he began walking away, then turned back momentarily. “Thanks for serving me, dude, some assholes won’t even do that much.” Then he left, the doors hissing closed behind him, and Gavin watched him go. He’d never known a robot be so…

                “Human.” he mumbled, shoving the piece of paper in his pocket and returning to his work. Of course, it never occurred to him that perhaps it was more to do with him having met more exceptionally ‘human’ robots in his year in America than he realised.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ryan closed the door and leant back against the cool, interior surface a moment, listening to the comforting silence of home. Carrie had taken his apology well after it was explained he was just worried for Gavin’s safety. And his own of course, he’d hurriedly added. Carrie was a godsend, and Ryan couldn’t risk being on bad terms with her.

                Pushing off from the door, he strode along the hallway, hanging his coat and keys as he went. Ryan looked towards the door to his workshop, not wanting to return to his project just yet. Instead he entered the kitchen and picked up a few wayward items on the countertops, placing them back in their proper places. Gavin’s camera caught his eye as he opened the cupboard to grab a glass. A bemused tilt of his head preceded him reaching over and picking up the device, intending to place it back in Gavin’s room where it wasn’t in danger of messy kitchen rituals.

                On his way to Gavin’s room, Ryan couldn’t help switching the device on and nosing through. A picture of the view from Gavin’s bedroom window. A short film of a piece of paper burning. Ryan chuckled, he’d sworn he could smell burning a few days ago. A picture of a beer. A film of the bubbles rising through the glass. A stray cat. A smiling elderly woman on a bus. Ryan. Ryan again. The back of Ryan’s head taken through the door of the workshop. Ryan with his glasses on, reading the newspaper intently. Ryan pouring coffee. Ryan asleep at his desk.

                He kept flicking through, and though there were other pictures and videos dotted throughout, there were undeniably _a lot_ of himself. He stopped on a film of him coming through the front door. He remembered it being taken, arriving home from a trip to the store and being confronted with the lens of a camera, a cheekily grinning Brit behind it. He smiled at the memory, and watched a confused mirror of the smile on-screen as Gavin snickered.

                Turning the camera off, he lowered it onto a shelf and left Gavin’s room, mind lingering on the photos and videos as he returned to his desk and worked through the rest of the day.


	5. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. ...becoming familiar with an emotion he hadn’t encountered before: rage.  
> 2\. ...that was when Gavin felt his life really began.  
> 3\. It started abruptly with the door opening...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, another chapter. I'm really being productive with this fic right now! I've been scribbling in my notebook all evening and finally got my hands on the PC to type it up and update. I hope this is good enough (I haven't gotten anybody else to read it but me, so it might be full of errors, who knows). Back in time again for this chapter, a selection of memories from both Ryan and Gavin. Enjoy!

                Ryan’s first few years of existence were void of memories prior to his initial activation. He existed purely to work alongside Dr Gregory Foss as an assistant technician and scientist. He developed software to increase the sensitivity of artificial skin and helped redesign the structure of the rotational joint for an increased flexibility model of the robot skeleton. By far his favourite times, though, were when he and Dr Foss studied and improved the artificial mind that was essential in making robots increasingly realistic. Foss got all the credit, of course. Ryan was merely a lab assistant, a robot helper for the genius scientist. It didn’t matter to Ryan. Things were simple back then.

                It never occurred to him that he was property of the doctor until the man sold him on. Ryan smashed a lot of expensive equipment when he found out, becoming familiar with an emotion he hadn’t encountered before: rage. It did no good. He was replaced with a newer model and shipped off to a small robot-repair shop in return for a large transaction of money for such an intelligent and advanced model as Ryan. Foss didn’t tell the buyer about the destructive outburst.

                Work in the shop was boring, and Ryan receded into himself, accepting his fate, rarely leaving the shop. Day-in-day-out he performed standard repairs on robot after robot, all brought to the shop by their owners, who paid for the repairs on their machines and hardly bothered to look at Ryan when they spoke. One day a robot entered the shop alone, and Ryan didn’t know what to do.

                “Who should I place the total on?” Ryan queried, glancing around and half expecting the robot’s master to appear from behind a shelving unit.

                “Um, me?” she said, a confused smile gracing her lips. “I have cash.”

                “I still need to put it in the system who the parts are going to. Let’s us track stuff down if there’s an issue.”

                “Well, the parts are for me. I’m a robot.” She said it like it was obvious (at this stage in robot advancements, it really wasn’t).

                “But what’s your owner’s name?” Ryan asked exasperatedly. She laughed.

                “No thank you, not for me, owners. I’m a free ‘bot.” Ryan stared. “I’m free,” she repeated after a moment, “nobody owns me.”

                “Okay.” Ryan said, and asked her name so he could enter it in the system. That night, before he shut himself down at the back of the shop, he whispered it to himself. “I’m free.” The words sounded alien. “Nobody owns me.”

It wasn’t true, of course. Not yet.

* * *

 

                Gavin doesn’t remember much of his childhood, but he has a few scattered memories of parents, a hometown back in England, a few Christmases celebrated in a scantily-decorated family home. He remembers that his parents never approved of his lifestyle and the increased freedom when he escaped to America meant that that was when Gavin felt his life really began. In fact, the moment he’d turned up on Ryan’s doorstep seemed to be the moment Gavin’s memories gain real clarity.

                He didn’t speak to his parents anymore, hadn’t since he traveled abroad. He’d gotten a new phone at some point and never added their contact details again. Once, out of curiosity, he searched their names on the internet, but he didn’t find evidence of anybody he recognised or remembered. At that point he just accepted that he’d have to make his own family. Starting with Ryan, of course. Ryan had never asked about Gavin’s family and he realised he’d never asked about Ryan’s either. How strange that they knew next to nothing of one another’s pasts. He supposed it had never mattered to them somehow, in their fast friendship and sudden closeness, housemates after a single meeting. The memory was vivid.

* * *

 

                 It started abruptly with the door opening, a tired-looking Ryan on the other side.

                “Hi.” it was tense, scared almost. Gavin frowned.

                “Mr…” he looked down at his notepad. “Haywood?”

                “Yes, that’s me.” There was a flicker of something bright in the stranger’s eyes, hope maybe? Excitement? Gavin held out a cardboard box.

                “Your order, M-”

                “Ryan” the man corrected, before ‘Mr Haywood’ had even left the younger man’s mouth.  Gavin blinked. Ryan ‘s eyebrows furrowed, as if realising his mistake. He took the box in his right hand and motioned inside with his left. “Mind coming in and showing me how to set it up? I’m not exactly up to scratch with how these work.”

                “Oh.” Gavin wasn’t sure if this was standard. He wasn’t sure of anything, actually. He felt strange, like he was in his body for the first time and wasn’t sure how anything worked. “Okay.”

                “Great, come on in.” Gavin wondered if he should take his coat off and opened his mouth to ask. Again, Ryan seemingly read his mind. “Coat on the hook there.” Gavin obliged.

                They sat down in Ryan’s kitchen, at the table, and Gavin started unpacking the camera he’d delivered, but Ryan seemed entirely uninterested, instead making shameless small-talk.

                “Gavin” the younger responded to the initial question of his name.

                “You live round here?” Gavin was thrown off a little by the question, but his brain seemed to provide an answer.

                “Not really.” he rattled off his address and wondered why he couldn’t picture his own home. He must be having a real off-day. Ryan grimaced theatrically.

                “Shady place to live, Gav.” Gavin blinked at the nickname. This conversation was weird.

                “I know.” He didn’t. Ryan dropped the subject, possibly sensing his guest’s discomfort, but he continued to chat. Soon they both had drinks. Then they were in the living room, and the TV was on in the background, the camera left, forgotten, on the table. Gavin checked his watch and inhaled sharply.

                “I should probably be going.” he said, even though he had no idea where else he should be. Had coming here been part of his job? What was his job? Gavin looked down at his hands. They were shaking. He looked up at Ryan, who was staring at the trembling fingers too.

                “Listen,” Ryan said quickly, like he didn’t have much time. “I know this is going to sound really weird and sudden, but I’ve been looking for a housemate to share the rent on this place for ages. There’s two bedrooms, see, and I’m a bit tight on money right now. You seem like a really genuine guy and I wonder if maybe you’d be interested in taking up the offer.” He took a deep breath, and smiled nervously.

                “Yes.” Gavin heard himself saying, suddenly not wanting to leave, to be thrust alone into the wide world. “Yes, sounds bloody brilliant.” His voice cracked. Ryan beamed at him, and stood up to offer his hand. Gavin shook it.

                “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Gavin Free.” The line sounded cheesy, rehearsed. Gavin would have been weirded out further if not for the strange relief that he felt being reflected back at him in this strange man’s eyes. Gavin felt like all the answers he needed were to be found here, the home of Ryan Haywood, and now, apparently, Gavin Free.


	6. Present Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can robots love?” Ryan dropped his fork and it clattered against his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another entry, just something I wrote up tonight (I'm exhausted from the school week but I really wanted to write something). I hope this is okay, I'm really nervous I'm not writing their characters right. Enjoy, guys, things are just beginning to get interesting in the Gavin-Ryan dynamic!

                “Do robots ever die?” Gavin’s voice erupted into the confined space of Ryan’s workshop. Ryan started, and then furrowed his eyebrows.

                “Well,” he began slowly, “they’re never really alive to begin with, Gav…”

                “Oh. Yeah.” Gavin remained stood in the doorway, and Ryan turned in his chair to face him. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Gavin looked away. “So do they just carry on forever?” he contemplated, ambling into the room and picking up an eraser off the corner of Ryan’s desk. Ryan watched him turn it in his fingers, distracted enough for Gavin to look back at him after a moment of silence, hands falling still. The older man cleared his throat and placed his own hands behind his head as he lent backwards in his chair.

                “No…” He answered hesitantly with carefully chosen words. “It was never exactly openly broadcast to the public, for obvious reasons, but early manual labour robots were always just shut down and disassembled once their tech got outdated, to make way for newer models.” He didn’t tell Gavin that this kind of practice was ongoing in some places. There was another silence, and Ryan new that that wasn’t the question Gavin had truly wanted to ask him, so he stood up and tapped the other man’s shoulder as he left the room. “Let’s get some food, anyway. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

                “Why do robots eat?” Gavin chimed, following the older man out of the workshop.

                “Not all of them do. Certainly most models yet to undergo any kind of assimilation have no need to, and are alternately powered, by fuel, by electricity, by an internal generator of some kind. It varies.”

                “So they just eat to seem normal?” Ryan’s mouth twitched slightly, but he answered patiently.

                “Sometimes. More recent bots outfitted for assimilation actually require nutrients and have a complete artificial organ set. Robot science has advanced so much in recent years, robots are becoming practically organic, or at least as close to organic as you can get without actually being a living organism.” As he spoke, Ryan set about putting together a meal for them both, opening cupboards and assessing the contents shrewdly. Gavin dropped into a chair at the table and watched Ryan work. He gained confidence having escaped his housemate’s direct gaze and made a humming sound in response. Ryan could sense that the topic was shifting.

                “Do you have family?” Gavin caught himself, “well I mean of course you do, I just- Do you speak to them? Do you know where they are? And I know it’s really weird suddenly asking but I realised I’ve never asked you or anything so…”

                “Eh, my mother left when I was young, hardly remember her, no idea where she is now. Dad died a few years back, liver issues. Drank too much.” Ryan rattled off his assigned past, the flickers of artificial memories tickling at his thoughts. He immediately felt bad though, when Gavin frowned and looked away.

                “That’s nobs, Ryan, sorry for asking.” Ryan bit his lip. It wasn’t even real, it felt so wrong that Gavin should be sad about it.

                “No problem, I’m over it.” He grabbed the plates off the counter and slid them onto the table. Nothing fancy, a reheated pasta dish Ryan had made previously. Gavin still didn’t look at him.

                “I feel bad, I ruined it.”

                “What?”

                “I ruined the conversation, I made it all sad.” Ryan shook his head slightly and pushed a plate towards his housemate.

                “The only sad person around here is you. Eat.” They ate in companionable silence for a while, making idle chat, when Gavin’s seemingly endless fascination with robots resurfaced.

                “Can robots love?” Ryan dropped his fork and it clattered against his plate. He grabbed it up again in an instant, blood rising in his face.

                “Uh- Well-” he fumbled, recovered, and saved himself from answering, “You’re asking a lot of questions about robots recently, huh?” It was Gavin’s turn to be embarrassed, and he looked down at his food as he mumbled a response.

                “Well, I kind met one the other day and he didn’t seem too bad, actually. For a robot.” Ryan shook his head “W-they’re not evil, you know, Gav.” His heart skipped a beat at the blunder, but Gavin didn’t seem to notice.

                “I know, I know, I’m not _that_ dumb.” Ryan raised an eyebrow. Gavin spluttered, “Oi, don’t give me that face!”

                “So tell me about this robot that’s apparently knocked some common sense into you?” Gavin pulled the paper out of his pocket.

                “He’s called Michael and he came by the shop today and- Oh, yeah, I forgot to ask you. Can you get one of those new models of internal camera? He wanted to buy one but we don’t stock it so I said I’d talk to my friend who works on robots and-”

                “He gave you his number?” Ryan said, looking at the scrap of paper with something that resembled suspicion.

                “So I can tell him when to come pick it up.” Gavin watched Ryan’s face as he replied, and the other man caught his gaze. There was a moment where time seemed to slow immeasurably, and Gavin felt like he was watching the moment back on his camera. The man opposite smiled, but in the moment before his eyes softened, Gavin could swear there was some hardness in them, some hint of hurt or fear that disappeared with his answer, but had, undoubtedly, been there.

                “I’ll phone my provider in the morning and see what I can get one for.”

                “Huh-” Gavin’s thoughts stalled, and he shook his head to clear it. “Oh, yeah. Cool, thanks Ry. I think I’m going to go to bed, can’t seem to think straight today.” He stood, took his plate to the sink and began to run water.

                “You okay? I can wash up.” Ryan appeared behind him at the sink, and Gavin jumped.

                “Yes.” he said, blinking rapidly, and hurried from the room, leaving the older to watch him go with furrowed eyebrows.

Said eyebrows un-furrowed a moment later, however, when Gavin’s head appeared around the doorframe, accompanied by a hurried ‘Goodnight!’ before he disappeared once more.

               


	7. 10 Weeks B.G. (Before Gavin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intermittent flashes of lightning illuminated the room, casting Ryan’s shadow high on the wall as he stood hunched over the body of his masterpiece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's quite short, even for me (I'm mad for those teeny tiny chapters it seems). This one was really intense to write though and took a long time to get right (it's past 3am right now! Heavens!), especially as half of it I was trying to write in the hairdressers whilst waiting for my appointment with the obnoxious music blaring in the background xD I hope you all enjoy and hopefully there's more on the way ^u^ Also I hope my writing isn't too vague I try to make what's going on really obvious without directly saying exactly what's happening because that's boring :P but if I'm too vague and you would like me to explain anything, drop a comment and I'll say as much as I can without spoilers :)

                It was the screaming, the incessant screaming that drove Ryan to despair. His robot creation's shivering, quaking form, curled into a corner and screaming into his hands, the pain and confusion quivering through the air in each helpless wail. _What could be worse than this?_ The question pounded through Ryan’s skull.

                The following silence answered it.

* * *

 

                Hours earlier Ryan flitted between his workbench and creation, hurriedly approaching the culmination of his project. Excitement buzzed through his fingertips, a fervent electricity animating his limbs so that he had to consciously steady his hands. He wondered if perhaps there was a fault in his circuiting, but dismissed the idea as the product of his nerves.

                He was so close now, moments away. Ryan wondered if perhaps it was too hasty of him to attempt activation without a memory core, or indeed any basic knowledge programming, but with the artificial consciousness fully functioning. He was briefly reminded of his own initial activation, and how confusing it had been even with a limited pre-installed awareness and understanding. Perhaps he should test motor function without consciousness, controlling the robots movement remotely. He shook his head, dispelling the worries. He would have to start over his preparations, remove the conscious drive, and forego the opportunity to see his own uniquely designed and developed brain in action for the first time. This was beyond anything the government-funded facilities had manufactured thus far. This was the future of robot science, assimilation bots in particular, right before him, ready to be tested. Ryan was practically salivating.

He was momentarily distracted as thunder rumbled through the skies outside, and the rain’s roaring against the roof increased in volume. A dismal setting.

                The intermittent flashes of lightning illuminated the room, casting Ryan’s shadow high on the wall as he stood hunched over the body of his masterpiece.

                “Activation attempt one.” His voice was gruff from disuse. “Full brain function and consciousness in place, no artificial memories or pre-installed knowledge introduced. Testing motor function and communication abilities.” A blank slate, he thought as he entered the activation code.

                The eyes opened. They were a diluted yellow colour, disturbing and slightly repulsive. _Reprogram eye colour_ , Ryan noted mentally. He opened his mouth to speak to the robot, but was cut off as it gave a low moan. It seemed to become aware of its surroundings, glancing about the room from its position lying on the bench.

                “Hello,” Ryan tried, his voice sounding distant to himself, distorted as through water, “can you speak?” The mouth opened and Ryan’s fingernails dug into his palm with anticipation. Instead of speech, however, a gargling wail bubbled from the robots throat which quickly escalated into a high screech of distress. Ryan stepped backwards, stumbling into his desk and scattering tools onto the floor. The robot scrabbled off the bench at the clattering, momentarily silent as it crawled into the corner of the room. The wide, pale yellow eyes caught Ryan’s for a moment before the hands rose to cover them and the screaming resumed. The harsh fear in those eyes made Ryan pause, and again sound seemed to drop out of focus. He was drowning in an ocean where the water crashed far above not with the roar of waves, but the anguished wailing of what he had created.

                He stood for an immeasurable amount of time, frozen in place and perhaps as terrified as the poor creature in front of him. Then, he crouched down, reached under his desk, and pulled the plug on his computer, terminating the program and ceasing the robots short consciousness. Ryan fell back from his crouched position to sit on the floor, and scraped his hands down his face as tears pricked in his eyes. He didn’t look round. He didn’t think he could, not yet. Couldn’t face the silent, empty framework still stiffly hunched in the corner, cowering. Cowering from what? _Me?_ The thought hurt. There was fire behind his eyes, it seemed, but the tears did little to quench it.


	8. Anno Gavin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Wait’, he thought to himself suddenly. ‘Is this a date?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quite short one, sorry! I've actually been writing this section on-and-off for a few days, but only got on the PC to type it up today. I hope this is okay (I'm kinda nervous about writing such tense, high-emotion exchanges because I don't want to be overly dramatic. I mean, I still want it to be stirring and wild, but I want it to seem real, too. If you particularly liked or disliked any aspect, let me know!  
> On another note, my chapter titles are getting more and more ridiculous, haha. 'Anno Gavin'? As in 'Anno Domini' (medieval latin for "in the year of the Lord"), so it's like "in the year of Gavin". Pfftch. Really I'm just making excuses to not use specific timings (e.g. 14 months since... etc.) because I'm pretty much certain I'd screw them up somewhere, confuse myself, and end up with a timeline that doesn't make sense. As long as you guys know this chapter is back in the present, that's fine.

                It was a warm evening, the television humming quietly and a hazy quality to the air. Gavin sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by countless pieces of camera. Ryan, slumped comfortably in the armchair, watched him over the rim of his glasses, entirely ignoring the book in his hands. He chuckled involuntarily as Gavin dropped a small piece of his work and desperately grasped after it with clumsy fingers. The younger man’s head whipped around at the sound and his eyes narrowed accusingly.

                “Ry-an,” he whined, “don’t spy on me!” The accused laughed harder to hide his embarrassment and looked at his housemate incredulously.

                “Spy on you? In our own home, in the living room, where you have willingly chosen to work in front of me?” Gavin huffed and changed the subject.

                “Did the camera thing for Michael come in that delivery you got earlier?”

                “Oh, yeah.” Ryan frowned, removing his glasses and folding them slowly. He grabbed the TV remote from the arm of the chair beside him and flicked between channels, staring blindly towards the screen. “Check the box on my desk.”

                “Okay.” Gavin hesitated, watching Ryan for a moment. When the man didn’t react in any way, Gavin jumped up from the floor and moved quickly from the room.

 

* * *

 

                “Hello?” The voice was familiar and Gavin halted in his nervous pacing, up and down the hallway. He relaxed his grip on the phone and spoke freely.

                “Hey, is that Michael? It’s Gavin. Free.” He added after a moment’s hesitation: “From the camera store.” There was the brief sound of shuffling on the other end, and then the voice returned.

                “Gavin, yeah. I remember. The fucking rude guy!” Gavin could hear the teasing in his tone, but made a disgruntled noise of offence anyway. He heard a snigger across the line. “How are you, Gavin?”

                “Great, yeah, thanks. Uh, you’re order arrived today.”

                “Fuck yeah! Thanks, when can I pick it up?” Gavin grinned at the excitement in Michael’s voice and responded eagerly.

                “Well, tomorrow if you’d like. The store opens at-“

                “When does it close?”

                “Uh, well my shift tomorrow ends early, but I can stick around and do inventory stuff until you can come.”

                “No, that’s fine, my job’s flexible so I can be there whenever, I just wanted to come around when you get off work.”

                “Why?” Gavin’s eyebrows meet momentarily.

                “So we can go get coffee, asshole.” Gavin’s eyes widened and he couldn’t help but grin at the idea. “Hello? You still there?”

                “Yes,” he stammered. “Yeah, so I’ll see you at two?”

                “Absolutely, and bring money. I’m not paying for you.” Gavin laughed at that. “I’m serious, shithead. Alright, bye.”

                “Bye.” Gavin hung up and leant back against the wall, still smiling to himself. ‘ _Wait’_ , he thought to himself suddenly. ‘ _Is this a date?’_

                ‘ _Bollocks.’_

 

* * *

 

                “Calm the hell down, will you?” Ryan grumbled. “He probably doesn’t mean anything by it, just wants to get to know you.”

                “Okay, okay, okay.” Gavin repeated, pacing back and forth across the living room. Ryan’s eyes followed his movements.

                “Why would he hit on you anyway?” Ryan teased, then immediately regretted it at Gavin’s hurt expression. “Sorry, sorry. Kidding. Seriously, though, you’re stressing _me_ out with all this panicking. At least sit down.” He paused. “Please.” Gavin stopped pacing, but remained standing.   “It’s just I’ve never had a serious date or any-”

                “It’s _not_ a date.” It was more forceful than Ryan had intended. Gavin recoiled slightly, stepping backwards a fraction and blinking a few times.

                “And when did you become the guy who decides?” he shot at Ryan vehemently. Ryan stood up, but held his hands up as if in defence as he approached the other man.

                “Hey now, I’m just trying to stop you panicking.” He insisted, stepping forward again. “Just calm d-“

                “I don’t want to!” Gavin shouted, backing up and flinging his arms out clumsily. “Do you have something against Michael? Is it because he’s- he’s a robot!?” His voice was harsh, accusing, but also strained.

                “ _What?_ No, I _never_ said anything about that!” Ryan’s brow creased at the ridiculousness of the accusation and opened his arms, a display of innocence.

                “It’s not about what you say…” Gavin sounded defeated, his shoulders slumped. Ryan cringed, arms dropping back to his sides.

                “You’re just getting worked up over nothing, Gav.” He said softly. The younger man glared at him in response, tensing up again.

                “What if I want to get worked up? Maybe I want to be excited about this! Stop acting like this should mean nothing to me be- because-” A phantom hesitation. “What if I _want_ it to be a date!?”

                Ryan was silent, the knuckles of his now-clenched fists pale. Their eyes met. There was, anger, a hint of malice in Gavin’s, but also something of fear and betrayal. Ryan’s blue eyes were hard and cold, but as Gavin turned and strode from the room that fell away. Frustrated sadness and dull hurt pooled. He blinked hard, still staring through the space Gavin had been standing in.

                The sound of his housemate’s bedroom door closing forcefully disrupted his trance-like state and he fell back into the armchair, picking up his book. He stared at it for a while, not processing anything, until the words began swimming on the page. He chucked the book across the room with a grunt, blinking furiously.

                “Fuck it,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face before standing up and leaving the room, turning off the light on his way out.


	9. Sometimes, All the time, Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Gavin wondered if he would find love one day  
> 2\. Gavin stared at the door and then threw his sock at it.  
> 3\. Maybe technology had come far enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, been on holiday for a week (just got back yesterday)! Oh my gosh this bit was hard to write, though. I spent hours poring over it and I'm still not totally sure I'm happy. But I can't nitpick forever, and I've kept you waiting long enough. Enjoy :)

                Sometimes, lying in darkness and staring towards a ceiling he can’t see, Gavin felt like there were pieces of his life missing. Everyone he knew seemed to have such vivid memories of childhood, school, family, first loves, growing up… In Gavin’s memory there was mostly vast emptiness and vague recollections that felt like abandoned stories: a brief history of Gavin Free. ‘ _Is there something wrong with me_?’ he would wonder feebly, remembering reading somewhere about people’s minds blanking memories due to traumatic experiences. Could that have happened to him?

                Sometimes, unmoving and thoughtful in the quiet of his bedroom at night, Gavin imagined what the gaps in his past contained. He imagined a childhood in England, with the friends and family he could remember the faces of, yet felt like he hardly knew. They were strangers to him, characters in a book he hadn’t read. So instead, he invented. He imagined school, and being stuck in a classroom on summer days, struggling to get decent grades, disappointing or pleasing his parents. He tried to imagine a first love, but soon realised he didn’t have a face for that one. _‘You must have never been in love’_ he finally admitted to himself one such night.

                Sometimes, following this line of thought into the early hours, Gavin wondered if he would find love one day, wondered what being in love was even like. He felt blind, inexperienced. He thought of Ryan. Had Ryan ever been in love? Gavin didn’t think so, somehow. He took some comfort in that thought and reached to turn off the light.

                More than sometimes, Gavin’s last thoughts, before he closed his eyes to the darkness and fell almost instantaneously asleep, were of Ryan.

* * *

 

                On this particular night, Gavin slid to the floor just inside his room, the door cold through his shirt, legs splayed out across the floor at awkward angles. His conversation - _argument_ \- with Ryan played back in his mind and he winced.

                _Did_ he want this to be a date? Or had he just said that? The Brit dropped his head into his hands and scrunched his eyes closed, feeling confused and scared but mostly wanting Ryan to tell him everything would be okay and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stood up suddenly. He had shouted at Ryan in his frustration, though, and now they were on bad terms.

                Gavin dropped onto the edge of his bed to sit and began pulling off his shoes and socks. _‘What was I even so angry about?’_ he thought as he grabbed something suitable for sleeping in from the floor. It all seemed so stupid in retrospect. Gavin stared at the door and then threw his sock at it. He didn’t want to be angry at Ryan anymore.

* * *

 

                “Ryan?” The voice was quiet, hesitant. Ryan hadn’t heard him enter and he jumped slightly, startled. Looking over his shoulder revealed Gavin, stood in the doorway, looking small. Ryan dropped the clothes he had been folding on the bed and turned towards his housemate.

                “Gavin, I’m s-”

                “ _I’m_ sorry, for shouting and being a minge and just mucking up I guess…” He stared at his feet as he spoke, but Ryan knew it was sincere.

                “It’s okay, I was being overbearing.” He beckoned Gavin into the room, sitting on his bed and patting the space next to him. The younger man shuffled over and dropped onto the mattress beside Ryan. They both looked forward.

                “No, I get it; I was being awkward and not making much sense. _I_ would have given up trying to reason with me” Gavin dropped his hands as he spoke, and one landed atop Ryan’s. He flinched and moved it away quickly. Ryan remained still, but frowned.

                “Gav-” Gavin stood up before he could finish, looking away.

                “Ryan…” it sounded pleading. They were both on their feet now, Ryan taking Gavin’s shoulder and pulling him round to face him. Their eyes met and Gavin inhaled.

                “Gav” Ryan murmured, taking the Brit’s hand in his and squeezing gently. His fingers felt clumsy around Gavin’s, and he was paralysed like someone who’s just encouraged a wild bird to eat from their hand. In years to come, Ryan thinks back to this moment as one of his most treasured memories, more so than any synthesised history his creators had given him. “This,” he looked down at their hands, and then looked up to see Gavin doing the same. “This can be okay.” He hesitated, searching for something, anything discernible in the other man’s eyes, still locked on their linked fingers. “If you want it to be” he added in an exhale. Gavin’s hand twitched, and he slowly took his back. Ryan felt like he was falling.

                “Ryan, I don’t know, I don’t-” Gavin fumbled.

                “It’s fine” came the terse reply, Ryan withdrawing into himself.

                “I’m sorry, for earlier” Gavin stepped back as he spoke, “and- and for that-” his eyes dropped to Ryan’s hand again, for an almost imperceptible second.  “Goodnight.” He left hastily, leaving Ryan reeling.

 _‘Oh my god.’_ His circuits felt about ready to give out, and the fuzzy thrum in his artificial skull assured Ryan that that little scenario had utilised his most advanced emotion-based tech to the height of its capabilities. A million articles and headlines from recent years flashed through his mind, the world arguing over the consequences of giving machines emotions: what if they felt anger, malice, hatred… _‘Love?’_ Ryan added and felt sick. Why did he even have a function for that? Maybe the world was right to question it: what could possibly be the benefit of this torturous experience? Maybe robots and feelings weren’t meant to be combined. Maybe technology had come far enough. His mind briefly entertained the thought _‘What have I done to Gavin, then?’_ before he pushed it back to fret about later. There was too much going on right now. One crisis at a time, please.

                He inhaled and exhaled slowly, cooling his systems and calming himself down. Right now he needed to work out what to do with himself, with these blasted… _‘Feelings. Not that they matter now.’_ He leaned over and planted his face in his pillow. _‘I’ve ruined everything.’_


	10. Obscurity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing pretty in a fist fight; no easy way to be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. Firstly, school is back and awfully occupying. Secondly, I just couldn't get this chapter sounding right for love nor money. I hope this is okay for you guys, and I'm sorry in advance for the abysmally frustrating end!

                The face came into focus with a gentle whirring, Ryan finding his nose inches from that of his assigned owner, Mr “Ryan, seriously, just call me Burnie” Burns, and with the unfamiliar feeling of an arm reaching around behind him, between his back and the wall, where his manual controls were. The feeling caused him to flinch slightly, away from the contact. The offending arm was hastily retracted and Burns moved back. As his systems warmed up, Ryan realised he had been activated manually, rather than turning on via the timer set for the shop opening.

                “Can I help you?” he asked reflexively, regretting how _programmed_ it sounded. It had been months since his first encounter with a free robot, but each day since had only increased his desire for autonomy, freedom, to be able to pursue his own desires.

                “Yeah, Ryan, listen.” Burnie seemed distracted. No: nervous. Ryan’s internal clock drew his attention away for a moment.

                “It’s too early for opening-”

                “Yes!” Forceful, exasperated, the tendons taut in his neck. Ryan shut his mouth. “Yes, I know, I need you to... come help me with something” Burnie explained, albeit hesitantly and without meeting his robot’s eyes. He turned away hastily, walking not towards the door to the front desk, but towards the door to the back-alley.

                “Outside?” Ryan got a glare in return, but which softened into something resembling pity in the second before Burnie turned away again, this time to reach for the handle and step outside. Ryan followed, naturally.

* * *

 

                A car journey later Ryan was stood on the porch of a man he’d known for years and yet never once seen outside the small repairs shop. He stared around at the city as the other man searched his pockets for keys. Ryan realised he hadn’t really looked at it in a long time. His reverie was interrupted by a sharp prod at his shoulder, and he was jostled inside.

                “What can I do for you?” he blurted, stumbling over the threshold into dim, nondescript hallway. Burnie didn’t seem to hear, closing the door and pushing past Ryan into the house, all the while mumbling under his breath.

                “…most expensive investment…the shop can’t afford…only give us half the price…the parts can be sold though, this way-”

                “Sir?” Burnie looked up, reminded of the android’s presence. He smiled so artificially that Ryan for a second almost doubted that _he_ was the machine.

                “Sorry, Ryan, please make yourself at home, I just… need to…” He exited through the left-hand door, closing it behind him.

                Ryan wanted to ask what exactly was happening, but something self-preserving in him prevented it. Burnie didn’t seem keen to explain. He let his owner move away and instead wandered through the doorway on the right. A humble living room greeted him on the other side. Dusty ornaments adorned sparse shelving, and a weathered rug covered rough floorboards. A television was shoved into one corner; a brown couch was pushed against the opposite wall. Wandering over to the window, Ryan noted the subtle groan of the wooden floor and welcomed the view of the outside world.

                His life - if you could call it that - hadn’t moved forward in years. He wondered, a little hopelessly, if it ever would. He wanted freedom, but realised he didn’t even know how to achieve such a thing. How did free robots come to be? If they were made that way then surely he was doomed to a life of subjugation. He stared at the city and felt like giving up.

                The floorboards’ aching lament sounded, and he turned to see Burnie, one hand outstretched towards where, an instant before, Ryan’s manual controls had been. There was a gushing rush of air as Ryan exhaled sharply.

Burnie was frozen in place, time seemingly standing still but for the sound of his breath, harsh and rattling.

“Fuck” he whispered, before slamming into Ryan, hands groping at his clothes and reaching around his neck for the buttons. Ryan’s shoulder hit the window with the resonant thud of glass and he panicked. Twisting away from the grabbing hands, he flailed wildly, by chance landing a blow to his attacker’s head, throwing the man off balance. The hands retracted and Ryan lurched away, reaching toward the door. He felt a sharp, burning pain across his scalp as Burnie grasped at his hair. Ryan shouted something incomprehensible and reached back to tear the hand away, fingernails digging into soft flesh. Burnie grunted, and slammed his free hand against the back of Ryan’s neck. Numbness was the first thing to rush through the robot, and he knew his systems were preparing for shut down. He screamed, anguish and fear tearing from his lungs. His right hand swung around with a last surge of power. The scene was replaced by darkness as his vision shut down. A loud, persistent ringing in Ryan’s mind ceased the moment he felt his fist collide with something hard. The jolt of the impact was accompanied by a sharp snap, a metallic crunch, and a resonant clang. His last sensation was unbearable pain in his right hand before he fell, groaning, into obscurity.


	11. The Not Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, are you as scared of the imminent robot take-over as every other human I seem to meet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought this fic was dead. Well, YOU WERE WRONG. It's been almost a year since I last updated this but I've been thinking about it ALL THE DAMN TIME. I've done my A-levels, I'm going to university in less than a month, you'd think this fic would be forgotten, but no. I've been secretly writing it here and there, but mostly planning bits and pieces instead of just sitting down and writing a new chapter. BUT, I've done it. Here's the next chapter. Hopefully you won't have to wait another year for the next one (BUT NO PROMISES).

     It was only midday and Gavin’s hands were already sweating. He wiped his palms on his clothes and pulled nervously at his fingers, the sensation of bones pulling at their sockets more a distraction than a comfort. Every few seconds his eyes would flash back to the door, making it utterly impossible to focus on the screen to his left. As a result, his sales record was barely started, let alone complete, despite the document having been open almost an hour. The abrupt beep of the door, alerting a customer, sent little shocks over his skin and made his hairs stand on end. It was never Michael, of course it wasn’t. It was only midday.

     He’d left home earlier than usual though, so it felt like it should be later. He’d had to slip out before Ryan got up, no matter how cowardly it was. He felt a sickening weight in his stomach when he thought about talking to Ryan, and an equally sickening flutter in his chest when he recalled those hands enveloping his, hands so used to manipulating minute machinery, instead rubbing small circles across Gavin’s skin-

     Gavin slammed his hands down, perhaps too harshly, on the desk and pushed up from his seat. Turning, he shoved through the door into storage to grab Michael’s camera order from his bag.

* * *

 

     Ryan was graced with a few seconds of ignorant bliss when he woke. The fuzzy cloud of simulated sleep receded from his mind and he opened one eye, squinting at the sunlight piercing the gap between the curtains. Then his memory drive booted up. He shut both eyes tight, pulling the covers over his head, and tried in the soft warmth to forget. In the end the persistent buzzing of his entirely unnecessary alarm clock drew him out. Having dragged himself to the edge of the bed to turn it off, Ryan thought that now that Gavin likely hated him regardless, there was really no point in retaining his human façade… ‘ _No_ ,’ he told himself, sternly. He couldn’t drop two bombs on Gavin in so short a space of time, wrecking any remaining trust between them. ‘ _Michael_ ,’ his mind teased, ‘ _he accepts Michael_ ’. But there was a difference between introducing yourself as a robot and hiding it for a year, he concluded. Nevertheless, the idea tugged at his thoughts as he pushed up from the bed and exited his room.

     He knew – sensed – the house was empty even before he reached the kitchen where he would normally find Gavin wolfing down cereal. Not this morning. The blinds remained down; the room still and grey. Ryan pulled the cord to lift them and saw with unease that there was not even a bowl in the sink, no empty mug, no milk left on the table.

     ‘ _Like before Gavin._ ’

     The thought settled uncomfortably, and Ryan regretted thinking it immediately. He focused on breathing and stood there, barely managing even that, treading water in a storm. Was he malfunctioning? He ran a scan to check, results returned within a second: no error. ‘ _Just emotions,_ ’ Ryan thought begrudgingly. Surely he should be able to tell the difference by now? Gavin seemed to make everything so unclear, Ryan hated it. And loved it. Gavin was the question he never had an answer for, the ultimate problem, his favourite puzzle- ‘ _Gavin._ ’ The name was strung up in his mind, pulling at his seams, tugging him inwards, _crushing_.

     It was stupid, he knew, but he had to check. The knock yielded no answer, and Ryan swallowed, pushing the door gently inwards. All of Gavin’s belongings were there, obviously. He’d expected them to be, known they would be, and he left his housemates room quickly, embarrassed.

     Still, breathing felt easier.

* * *

 

     When Michael finally arrived, Gavin wasn’t even looking, nose practically against the screen of his phone as he frantically researched ‘how to be cool on the first date’.

     “Asshole,” Michael shouted as greeting, “what the hell are you on your phone for? Texting somebody I don’t know about?” Gavin blushed, shoving the phone into his pocket with haste. Michael raised a suspicious eyebrow.

     “Oh,” Gavin realised, “Oh, no, not at all – just looking something up – um…” Michael laughed.

     “Dude, I was kidding. You ready to go?” Gavin shuffled hesitantly.

     “Uh, well, yes. But, um, is this- Uh, I mean… Is this a date?”

     “It’s whatever you want it to be,” Michael replied smoothly with a wink and a shit-eating grin. The result was a yet-more flustered Gavin. A few splutters and flubs later, he managed to string together a sentence.

     “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea is all and um- Well, because you’re like… You’re great and all-”

     “Thanks,” Michael interrupted.

     “What I mean is-”

     “Let’s be friends first?” Gavin nodded, relieved. “Well then, Gavin Free, I would like to invite you for a strictly friends-only coffee, you fucking wimp.” He spoke harshly, but also smiled, and Gavin relaxed somewhat, his own mouth tugged up at the edges.

     “That sounds bloody lovely,” he enthused. “Oh, and here’s your order.” He handed over the bag.

     “Great,” began Michael, “you can tell me how it works on our not-date.”

* * *

 

     The not-date went well considering its shaky beginning. They talked over drinks and Gavin found he enjoyed Michael’s company and Michael found Gavin infuriating (but also endearing). They laughed and swapped stories and Gavin even began to forget that Michael was a robot – that is, until Michael brought it up.

     “So, are you as scared of the imminent robot take-over as every other human I seem to meet?” As he said this, Michael rested his chin on his fist expectantly, elbow on the table and expression curious.

     “Look, okay-” Gavin began stubbornly before remembering who he was talking to. “Uh, that is…” he continued hesitantly as Michael’s expression darkened. “Well, no actually,” Gavin realised as he spoke, “not anymore.” He shrugged. Michael seemed satisfied. Gavin smirked and added “But you in particular can be quite scary.” Michael laughed.

     “What about your friend who works on robots? How have you two co-existed if you were so against us before meeting me?”

     “Well, it’s not like he’s a robot,” Gavin answered bluntly. Michael grinned maliciously.

     “How do you know?” Gavin rolled his eyes.

     “I live with him- as in we share a home, not like-”

     “Okay, I get it, another totally platonic relationship. I bet you go on dates with him as well,” Michael teased, causing the colour to rise in Gavin’s face. “What, you do?” Michael continued, incredulously, misinterpreting Gavin’s embarrassment.

     “No, no! Of course not!”

     “Holy shit, what are you, scared of dating?” Gavin only looked down at his hands. “Oh my God – for real? Have ever been on a date before?” Gavin could only shake his head solemnly. Michael did the same, but with disbelief. “Wow.” There was a quiet moment where Michael absorbed this information and Gavin avoided eye contact, before Michael began his enquiry anew. “But that wasn’t the only reason you didn’t want this to be a date, was it?”

     “What?”

     “You totally dig this guy you live with, don’t you, but you’re too scared to do anything about it!” Gavin could only sputter ridiculously.

     “Bloody hell, you can stop psychoanalysing me now,” he eventually growled.

     “But it’s true, isn’t it?” Gavin breathed out slowly, considering.

     “I’m not really very good at the whole, um, emotions game…” he confessed instead. Michael scoffed.

     “You’ve had your whole life to practice! I was in manual labour originally – no emotional programming required. Fuck,” he breathed, a morose expression crawling across his features. “I could barely be called sentient. Just another machine.” Gavin stared, intrigued.

     "How did you get on the assimilation program, then? I thought only the most advanced models were deemed too intelligent to be owned.”


	12. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It wasn’t a date,” he said simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm on a roll! Another 1,000+ word chapter. I've taken to writing in the evening before I go to bed, and it worked! I heard we're most creative at night, or something like that. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, I actually had a lot of fun writing this one. I actually cannot wait for Ryan and Michael to meet in this fic, now. That will be a difficult scene to write. By the way, I'm British, so I constantly worry about writing dialogue for Americans. If it sounds too British in any way, if I'm using words I shouldn't, or not using words I should, let me know. Of course, as always, all feedback, positive and negative, is valued. Thanks for reading!

     “Well,” began Michael, “I was lucky enough to be assigned to a lab working in robot science – only doing heavy lifting and shit, though – but my boss employed a whole bunch of other robots, way more intelligent than my model, to help with the science stuff. Anyway, most of them were stuck-up bitches so I avoided them, but in the end I had to work with one who was doing a project that involved me hauling a lot of wires and metal around – I think it was like, robot nerves or something? But yeah, he actually turned out to be alright, even if he was convinced he was a ‘visionary’ or something. Always talked about how robots and people could become, like, so similar that there wouldn’t be so much tension between the two, or something. I’ll bet he was fucking thrilled when they introduced the assimilation program”.

     “Did he get signed up?” Gavin interjected.

     “Dunno, he was long gone when it came around. Our owner was an asshole when it came to replacement models. I heard some people actually freed their old models from ownership, which seemed like bullshit to me back then, but this guy basically just sold old models off and used the money towards new ones. Unfortunately for the bitch robots, advancements in robot intelligence were moving along pretty damn quickly. But yeah, it was this one robot who actually offered me upgrades. I became a sort of side-project of his, actually…”

 

* * *

 

     Michael had never grown to love Gregory Foss. Then again, he hadn’t initially hated him, either – his emotional programming wasn’t anything special enough for him to have many opinions on anything, really. That said, he was quite fond of Ryan.

     “Hey, uh, where do you want this shit?” Michael hefted the crate onto the counter-top with ease. Ryan barely looked up from his work, only sparing a glance at the new materials.

     “Over there,” he clarified after a distracted pause and with a vague hand motion. Michael complied. He knew Ryan well enough to know he wasn’t being rude, just like Ryan knew Michael’s near-constant foul language wasn’t meant to be hurtful, but was rather the result of Michael receiving the only vocabulary enhancer Ryan could get hold of easily – an unpopular generation model that had been discarded by another robot in the lab because it had a faulty profanity filter. Ryan had apologised initially, but Michael loved it. He decided it made him less like the snobbish intellectual robots in the lab, but was also miles better than his old service dialogue, programmed with default phrases and simple, polite questions. Michael didn’t want to say another ‘How may I help you’ _ever_ again.

     “I see your motor functions haven’t been impeded by that modification I gave you yesterday,” Ryan commented (still somehow without looking) as Michael dropped the crate down neatly where Ryan had indicated.

     Michael leant back against the counter as he spoke. “Yeah, what exactly was that one supposed to do again?” He was happy to take a quick break from bringing in the new equipment for the sake of conversation – it was one of the rare days Dr. Foss wasn’t in the lab, so they didn’t have to look constantly productive. ‘If you don’t need to be recharged, you should be working,’ Foss would demand, as if Michael never got bored. Well, to be fair, he didn’t before Ryan gave him intelligence upgrades. ‘ _Maybe manual labour’s just not challenging enough anymore,_ ’ he thought with a smile. He didn’t complain, though – Foss had only okay-ed Ryan’s ‘little project’ so long as it didn’t damage Michael’s efficiency.

     “Er, mostly emotional programming, and some better social awareness. I thought it might counteract your faulty P-r filter.”

     “Well it doesn’t work for shit,” Michael replied with a grin.

     “What? I couldn’t tell,” drawled Ryan with exaggerated sarcasm.

     Ryan laughed. “Well, at least you can be sure there’s practically no chance of Foss replacing you now that I’ve used so many of our resources on upgrading you, foul-mouth or no. Which is lucky, really, as I hear there’s been interest recently in more intelligent manual labour models.”

     “Humans can never fucking decide what they want. Give it a month and they’ll want us dumb again,” Michael said with vitriol.

     “True enough,” Ryan agreed.

 

* * *

 

     “Then one day he was gone.”

     Gavin gaped. “He ran away?”

     “No, idiot, he was replaced. Foss must’ve broken it to him when I was deactivated because I just remember waking up and there being a whole lot of shit to clean up. Then, a couple’ weeks later, his replacement arrived and that was that.”

     “What was the replacement like?”

     Michael breathed a laugh. “Fucking asshole,” was all he said.

     “So when the government declared freedom for certain robots…?”

     “I was freed. But not before Foss made one last bitch move by trying to lie about my upgrades.”

     Gavin made a disgusted sound. “Bloody hell, what a bastard! What did you do?”

     “Oh,” Michael began nonchalantly with a slight shrug, “I punched him.” Gavin gasped. “I was lucky that the coordination official that came to sign us up was understanding, or I might have been destroyed for aggressive behaviour.”

     “Like a dog,” Gavin whispered after a beat.

     Michael nodded. “Like a dog.”

              

* * *

 

           

 

 

     Ryan felt a swirling unease in the pit of his stomach when he heard the front door open that evening. Gavin was home. Ryan was chopping ingredients in the kitchen, having decided that making dinner would be far more productive than trying to do work but instead pacing his office and thinking about how to deal with Gavin. ‘ _Oh hey, Gavin, forget everything that happened yesterday, let’s just be friends. Oh, and by the way, I’m a robot. No biggie_ ’ was about the best he had come up with. Now Gavin was here and all of his rehearsed scenarios and ideas flew from his mind. Maybe he should just act like nothing happened, instead. They’d survived perfectly fine for months up until yesterday just pretending nothing was going on between them. Or at least Ryan had. Maybe he had really just been deceiving himself all this time. Maybe yesterday was the first time Gavin even thought about thinking about Ryan in that way.

     ‘ _Shit, shit, shit,_ ’ Ryan’s internal dialogue continued repetitively. He turned around reflexively as he heard Gavin come into the kitchen, an apology ready and waiting, but he was caught off guard by the younger’s smile. A nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless.

     “Guh-” Ryan managed. “Uh… Gavin, I’m really-” Then Gavin was hugging him, and Ryan was left to wave the knife around uselessly behind Gavin’s back. He eventually had the good sense to reach behind him and put it on the countertop before tentatively wrapping his arms around his housemate. Gavin’s gangling frame felt small in Ryan’s arms, and after a few silent seconds of the hugger having his face immovably buried in the huggee’s shirt, Ryan felt the need to say something.

     “Not that this isn’t, um, lovely,” Ryan began, choosing his words carefully, “but may I ask what exactly the meaning of this is?” He felt Gavin breathe deeply in against his chest. The sudden awareness of their proximity gave colour to his cheeks. Another moment of silence and Ryan was just about ready to malfunction. He carefully, gently, lifted his hands to Gavin’s shoulders and pushed the other man away from him so he could see his face. Gavin didn’t resist, but looked down and away in embarrassment. Ryan realised his companion was bright red. “Gav, are you okay?”

     Gavin nodded. “It wasn’t a date,” he said simply. Ryan misinterpreted.

     “Oh my god, did he stand you up? Gavin, I’ll-”

     “No!” Gavin quickly interrupted. “No, Michael was great. We agreed to just be friends. And he also made me promise to not be a baby and tell you-” he hesitated.

     “Tell me…?” Ryan prompted after a second. His artificial heart was hammering away. Surely Gavin could hear it.

     “Um, just promise we can take it really slowly okay?” Ryan nodded sincerely.

     “I promise.”

     Gavin looked down.

     Ryan did the same and saw that Gavin had taken his hand.

 


	13. You Can’t Kill What Isn’t Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes 'freedom' is just another word for having nothing left to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the first part of this chapter was really, really, really slow going. Then the second part came all in a rush. Sorry there was a bit of a wait for this one. I'm really busy getting ready to move to university on the 24th of September, but hopefully once I'm settled in I can find a good rhythm to keep this updated. But don't hold your hopes too high, especially if you've been with this fic since it's conception and know how unreliable I am. Also sorry if this is riddled with mistakes, I'm really tired and doubt I proofread this effectively. But anyway, enjoy!

     The small light on Ryan’s control panel blinked on at the appropriate time to prepare for the shop opening. Sensation flooded his limbs. What initially caught him off guard was the pain in his right hand. Then, when his eyes opened, his location.

     “Hm…?” he managed before his memory booted up at the same time he noticed his owner unconscious on the floor beside him. Ryan lurched away in fear, then cradled his mangled hand to his chest with a whimper when the disturbance renewed the pain.

     As an intellectual model, Ryan wasn’t built to be tough, and certainly not to hold up in physical combat. Burnie didn’t seem to have fared much better, however. Blood, half-clotted, was matted into his hair and blotted across his face on one side – he seemed to have a considerable head wound. He shifted suddenly, and Ryan scrambled to his feet in alarm.

     Horrendous thoughts rushed through his mind about what the authorities would do to him if they found out about what he’d done to his owner. He thought for a moment about calling an ambulance to make sure Burnie didn’t die, then remembered that would involve telling them what had happened. Maybe he should just run.

     He looked again at his boss. His _owner_. Perhaps he knew the truth about freedom. Ryan had to find out.

     It took him only a few minutes to gather materials sufficient to restrain Burnie before he came around, although tying him up proved to be difficult with only one functional hand. Ryan carefully examined his injury as he waited for Burnie to wake up, probing the tears in his artificial skin and the damaged skeleton below. He realised the extent of his sensitivity and pain circuitry as he tried to manually disconnect the artificial nervous system. Eventually he gave up, worried he would do more harm than good, and after prodding around in his active systems made him feel what a human might label as queasy. He may work in robot science, but his focus was artificial intelligence, not general repair.

     It was around then that Burnie began to properly stir.

     Noticing the movement, Ryan began abruptly: “How do I become a free robot?” Burnie squinted up at him.

     “What? Why-” He paused. “That’s seriously your first question?” he continued, voice coloured with disbelief. “Not ‘why did you try to kill me’?” He broke off momentarily to spit a glob of blood onto the floor in front of him. He stared at the blood for a beat, then cried: “You’re insane – you’re a machine, you can’t possibly feel! The authorities have gone too far – you’re mine. You belong to me.” He tried to lash out at Ryan, but his bonds restrained him. He seemed to just now realise he was tied up. Ryan watched him struggle, thinking. He had indeed overlooked the motive behind Burnie’s assault.

     “Then why?” Burnie stilled momentarily and stared. “Why did you try to forcefully deactivate me?” His boss sat back in his chair, measuring Ryan with his gaze.

     “The store can’t afford to lose you.” Ryan didn’t understand. “Especially after the fortune I paid for you.” Burnie added bitterly.

     “You were going to lose me?”

     “Holy shit, have you been living in a closet the last few weeks?”

     “The last few years,” Ryan corrected humourlessly. Burnie scowled.

     “Alright.” He spoke through gritted teeth, staring at Ryan hard. “I’ll tell you, _robot_.” He spat the word like it was off.

     Ryan listened.

 

* * *

 

     There had been a legislative change, a long time in the making. The moral controversy surrounding the treatment of highly intelligent artificial lifeforms had reached a climax, and finally change was being put in place. Initially, the legislation seemed to play into the hands of those who feared artificial intelligence – the easiest solution to the arguments was to halt production of models over a certain level of intelligence. It was made illegal to produce these robots, and Ryan was forced to realise that his life’s work was, essentially, useless.

     But there was a loophole. You could still upgrade existing models to a certain extent - the regulations were complicated and long-winded. That didn’t matter, though, as Burnie quickly added that nobody with half a brain would be upgrading their robots’ intelligence anytime soon. This was because a second surge of legislation amended the R.R.A (Robot Rights Act) giving existing high intelligence models freedom from ownership, the right to vote, and the opportunity to undergo total assimilation into human society. Whilst some approved of the progressive new approach, there was naturally a healthy level of outrage, especially among those in possession of such robots. Burnie was among them.

 

* * *

 

     “So, yeah, I didn’t fancy all that money down the drain, believe it or not.”

     “You would have kept me deactivated in your home just to prevent me from achieving freedom?” It seemed so petty, so pointless. Burnie laughed.

     “Parts. You’re made of them. They’d sell for a pretty price now that your model is out of production.” Ryan stared, eyes wide. Something inside him twisted with Burnie’s words, and he clenched his good hand into a fist. Disgusted, he stepped closer to his owner- no, not anymore. He stepped closer and spoke low.

     “You would kill me? Just like that?”

     Burnie laughed again. “You can’t kill what isn’t alive.”

     Ryan’s body rocked forward and it took every ounce of his willpower not to lay his hands on this cruel, spiteful human being. He seethed with rage, his whole frame shaking.

     “Well… You’re alive,” he said slowly, and Burnie saw where he was going immediately.

     “Hey, hey, whoah- Look, there’s no need-” Ryan kicked the chair, and Burnie toppled over with a shout and a thud. “Help! Murder! Rogue robot!” He shouted pathetically, squirming on the floor. Ryan was tempted to actually kick _him_ this time, but then he heard a door open next door. He was screwed if he stayed here.

     He looked one more time at his ex-owner, spat, then turned away and ran. Out the back, into the alleyway, over a fence, into the street, across a bridge. There weren’t many people about this early in the morning, but those that were saw his mangled hand, wiring hanging loose and sparking occasionally. They watched him run, intrigued, fearful, confused. Ryan didn’t look back long enough to notice any of them. He was in trouble. Big trouble. But his days as property lay behind him.

     Freedom lay ahead.


	14. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aw, how sweet,” Geoff whined sarcastically, “I hope you two are very happy together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one this time, sorry! University is hard work, as it turns out.

     “Gah!” Gavin’s panicked screeching reached its culmination as Geoff finally won the match. Geoff laughed maniacally and Gavin whined in protest: “I can’t believe I bloody bodged it up! I was so- I had you!”

     “Nobody can defeat the almighty Geoff!” came the bellowing response. Gavin laughed at that, and dropped his controller on the couch next to him to pick up his drink. There was a moment of companionable silence. Geoff broke it.

     “Dude, you haven’t been over in fucking forever – what gives?”

     The lad shifted awkwardly. “Been busy…” he admitted sheepishly.

     “Doing what? Hanging out with your housemate I’m not allowed to meet?”

     Gavin sighed exasperatedly and explained, “I just think you’d piss each other off, alright! He works on ro-”

     “Robots, yeah, I remember. What a creep. Those things are enemies of humanity, nothing more.” Gavin stayed silent and Geoff noticed. “Wait, you haven’t been recruited have you?”

     “No!” Gavin insisted. “No, and I haven’t been hanging out with Ryan.”

     “Fine, whatever. If you don’t want to hang out anymore you can just tell me, dude.”

     “What? I didn’t say that!”

     “Well you can’t give me a good reason why you’ve been ignoring me! What about the other day when I kept texting you about going out for drinks? You must have seen all those texts!” Geoff’s voice rose in pitch and began to sound strained – it was clear he was genuinely upset.

     Gavin spoke carefully, knowing how shitty his excuse sounded. “I was at work.”

     “No you fucking weren’t! Your shift ends early that day – I’m not an idiot.”

     “Okay, okay!” Gavin continued desperately, “I was on a date – kind of. Um.”

     There was a beat of stunned silence, then Geoff said, only slightly bitterly, “Congrats, who is she?”

     Gavin, who was taking a long gulp of his drink, sputtered. “Guh- uh well… He’s some guy I met when I was working at the till, um-”

     “Dude, that’s gay as dicks!”

     Gavin reddened slightly and burst out indignantly, “Well I know that!”

     “Whoah, calm down, Gav, you know I don’t give a shit about that, as long as he’s not robot scum.”

     Gavin bit his tongue, then managed to make “Thanks, Geoff” sound sincere. “Anyway, it didn’t go anywhere. We agreed to just be friends.”

     “Wait, so you liked him or you didn’t like him?”

     “Oh, no, he’s top and all, but, uh, I’m just not after all that at the moment, I guess.”

     Geoff smirked. “You’re just too in love with me” he teased.

     “Shut up, Geoff!” Gavin snapped, but he couldn’t help smiling. He looked at his phone. There was a text from Ryan: ‘ _Making something special for dinner ;) Don’t come back too late, dear <3 (can I call you ‘dear’ or is that too much? Just let me know if I’m rushing ahead :/ )_’ Gavin stifled a giggle upon reading it.

     “Another round?” asked Geoff, grabbing his controller.

     “Er, I should really get back-”

     “Dude, just sleep over, there’s always room on my couch for a friend. If my apartment wasn’t fucking small as dicks you could live here instead of having to share with that scientist nerd.”

     “Yeah, but Geoff, that scientist nerd is cooking me dinner,” Gavin responded, smiling at his phone as he replied to Ryan’s text: ‘ _Dear is fine, love :P_ ’

     Ryan’s reply came through almost immediately: ‘ _Hey, that’s not fair, you British call everyone ‘love’!_ ’

     “Aw, how sweet,” Geoff whined sarcastically, “I hope you two are very happy together.”

     Gavin looked up in panic for a moment, thinking Geoff had somehow read the texts, then realised he was simply continuing their conversation and rolled his eyes. “You’re just jealous,” he teased.

     “Ew, Gavin, you know there are a million guys I’d bang before I went near you – but seriously, you’re gonna leave me for your traitor housemate?”

     “Geoff,” Gavin began with a sigh, “We can go out for bevs next week sometime, I promise.”

     Geoff wasn’t having it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, enjoy your romantic meal, you whore.” He smiled as he spoke, though, and Gavin only pretended to be offended.

 

     “Don’t forget ‘bevs’!” Geoff called as Gavin closed the door on his way out.


End file.
